Is there really such a thing as a “hot streak”—a prolonged span of consistent success? In his debut book, The Hot Hand: The Mystery and Science of Streaks, Wall Street Journal sports reporter Ben Cohen takes a deep dive into this fascinating, often misunderstood phenomenon. 

Cleverly crafted through stories, examples, personal experiences, research studies, expert opinion and theories, The Hot Hand relies heavily on Cohen’s sports reporting expertise, with entertaining illustrations taken from both the basketball court and baseball diamond. These include a high school basketball team that adopted a winning strategy of shooting the ball only when very close to the basket or very far away, the success of NBA star shooter Stephen Curry and the interplay between an unlikely MLB starting pitcher and batter on a sticky Texas evening. 

But this book isn’t just about sports. “[A hot streak] happens to different people in different professions for entirely different reasons,” says Cohen, providing illustrations from the farming industry, computer gaming, business, Shakespeare, the art world and even how the music streaming service Spotify got the kinks out of its shuffle algorithm. He also delves into the difference between the gambler’s fallacy (how we perceive outcomes that are beyond our control) and the hot-hand fallacy (how we perceive outcomes we feel we can control).

Along with real-life examples are pages of authoritative commentary about the psychological and evolutionary ramifications of hot streaks, including a fascinating interjection from a professor who relates hot streaks to cognitive adaptation, suggesting our ancestors relied on the hot hand to forage. Cohen also covers comparative advantage—betting against the hot hand as an effective business strategy.

The Hot Hand is an interesting and thought-provoking book on a topic that isn’t often discussed but that impacts many different interests, activities and industries. Cohen sums it up best: “The hot hand is not a random occurrence. It’s the collision of talent, circumstance, and even a little bit of luck.”

What if you entered a psychiatric hospital under false pretenses? What if the symptoms you presented—a voice that said the words thud, empty and hollow—were false? You’ve seen how easy it is to be diagnosed with a mental illness. From inside, you’ll be able to observe how medical staff interacts with patients. Once you convince the hospital to release you, you’ll share your findings with the professor who arranged the study.

But even then, what if it wasn’t all as it seemed?

Susannah Cahalan, the bestselling author of Brain on Fire, was enchanted by the work of psychologist and Stanford University professor David Rosenhan, who created just such an experiment. Cahalan could relate to the pseudo-patients in his study. As she recounts in her first book, Cahalan was misdiagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, a psychiatric illness, before doctors eventually identified that she was suffering from autoimmune encephalitis, an illness with a known physical cause. Such diseases are called “the great pretenders.”

In the people who participated in Rosenhan’s study, Cahalan found another collection of pretenders and a window into psychiatric treatment. A psychologist introduced her to “On Being Sane in Insane Places,” Rosenhan’s account of the pseudo-patient study, which became widely known after its January 1973 publication in the journal Science. (Half of all intro-to-psychology textbooks referenced it by 1976.) In her growing fascination, she studied how Rosenhan’s work affected modern psychiatry, including hospitals that were shut down as a result of the study and revisions that were made to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

But the deeper she dug, the more questions Cahalan had. The pseudo-patients were difficult to identify, even with access to the professor’s notes. In some cases, details didn’t match, and Cahalan questioned the study’s veracity.

The Great Pretender is an account of Cahalan’s own research. In addition to Rosenhan’s study, she weaves in glimpses of other similar experiments, such as Nellie Bly’s well-documented experience as a journalist going undercover in a psychiatric hospital. The book is a detailed examination of psychiatry in the decades since the publication of Rosenhan’s groundbreaking, if elusive, study.

“To my adorable future corpses,” reads the dedication to Caitlin Doughty’s Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? Big Questions From Tiny Mortals About Death. Doughty’s forthright but playful tone is apparent before you even get to the table of contents.

Written as an answer book to all the questions Doughty has fielded from young and inquiring minds during her career as a mortician, author and death activist (more on that later), Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? is perhaps the most enchanting little book ever to discuss such matters as whether or not one’s body might explode if one’s final meal before being loaded into the crematorium included popcorn.

Anyone with a child in their life will be unsurprised at the sorts of curious hypotheticals that are posed in this book, or at a hyper-focus on the ins and outs of the corpse. It is to her credit that Doughty not only answers those questions that would seem to fall easily within her area of expertise but dutifully chases down the science that might provide a plausible answer to the fate of an astronaut who slipped from this mortal coil while on a spacewalk.

However, this book is by no means solely for death-curious children. Most if not all of the answers provided alongside the charmingly gothic illustrations will be news to the average adult reader, as well. In her career, Doughty has worked to rehabilitate a Western culture that has become death-illiterate through an increased outsourcing of the caregiving and rituals surrounding death. And as Doughty orients death as sometimes sad but normal, she touches on subjects that are of interest to adult readers who may be planning for end of life care, or helping someone else do so, such as eco-friendly, natural burial.

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? (which, yes, does include an answer to that question as well) provides answers to questions both humorous and moving, bringing tiny and full-sized mortals alike to a greater comfort with and understanding of the one transition that will happen to us all.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our interview with Caitlin Doughty, author of Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?

Although there has been coverage of Arab and Middle Eastern countries in Western media for decades, how often do we hear from women in these countries? In this groundbreaking collection of essays, Our Women on the Ground, Lebanese—British journalist Zahra Hankir assembles the writing of 19 different sahafiyat (female journalists) from across the Middle East, including Iraq, Yemen, Syria, Libya, Egypt and Palestine. In these powerful essays, journalists recount their harrowing, dangerous and sometimes painful experiences, both as women reporting on Middle Eastern conflicts and as people trying to survive along with everyone else, with their lives and spirits intact.

In one essay, Hannah Allam recounts the need to keep her sense of humor through the violence in Iraq. To her, Iraqis can be funnier than anyone, even when death is looming. She shares a local joke: “As the years stretched on without the restoration of power, a popular joke was that a distraught boy runs up to his mom and sobs that his father had touched a wire and been electrocuted. The mother replies: ‘Thank God! There’s electricity!’”

Although it may seem macabre, these very human moments signify the resilience and perseverance of a society attempting to keep itself together. In another essay, “Love and Loss in a Time of Revolution” by Nada Bakri, we read about the author’s emotional experience of living through the loss of her husband, Anthony Shadid, also a journalist, who died from something as routine as an asthma attack while reporting on the front lines in Syria.

Zaina Erhaim, a journalist from Syria, examines life as a feminist in a conservative country as she tries to exercise her independence and not wear a head covering. As time goes on, she relents for her own safety and begins to wear a hijab. Although she finds this practice constricting, it also gives her access to spaces with women, like hospitals, where men aren’t allowed. Through this, she recognizes the advantages of being able to move through locations other journalists cannot.

At times difficult to read, this essential essay collection will bring a more nuanced view of the Middle East from voices you probably haven’t heard, and the depths of experiences will force you to find the courage to understand and not look away.